Off World
by obaona
Summary: Response to a challenge to show the many sides of Xanatos. Humorous vignette.


Title: Off … World

Summary: Response to a challenge to show the many sides of Xanatos. Humorous vignette.

A/N: I love feedback. ;) To pieces. :p

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**~*~*~**

I storm down the hall, fuming. And by storming I don't mean a pretty adjective, or verb, or whatever the hell that is, but I'm angry and I'm letting people know it. The day started bad, and it's only getting worse. First I wake up with a headache, then I have to kill one of my employees because the dumbass had to go and try to betray me. Yeah, smart, cross the Dark Jedi. 

Then I learn that Qui-Gon's coming over. And I don't mean for a nice chat . . . it'll probably go more along the lines of him telling me to repent my ways and turn to the spiffy Light Side, and give away all my money.  (Oh, fantastic idea.)

As such, I'm storming along the hall to my office so people know to stop bugging me with their stupidity along the way.

I should have known better; that never works with Lilah. The woman either has no fear or no common sense. She's utterly fearless, and I'm regretting marrying her, even if I did get her old man's life insurance and assets. And I regret even more sleeping with her. Who says Dark Jedi have no regret?

"Darling! Darling!"

"Not now," I growl, and move faster. Hope – aka, my office with a lockable door – is nowhere in sight. 

Lilah manages to catch up anyway. She's wearing some white frilly something or other, probably something I had my secretary find and give her to shut her up temporarily. And look, she's got the kid.

Well, our kid. He's a cute little thing, for those wise in such matters, but he mostly looks like his mother, which doesn't leave me much hope for leaving the kid my wealth when I die. (Fantastic.) He's got ginger hair and light blue eyes, just like Lilah, instead of my dark blue eyes and black hair. According to my doctors (who say lots of things which I don't necessarily believe, by the way), he's very intelligent, so he got that from me, anyway. They say he's likely Force-sensitive, too, which is a whole other batch of issues, which I will delay dealing with as long as humanly possible.

Lilah runs beside me, the only way to catch up to my much longer stride. "Darling," she pants (and not attractively, I might add – yeah, she's a good looking woman, but not when she runs). "Darling, Obi-Wan misses you!"

I stop suddenly, causing Lilah to overcompensate, and she has to halt and turn back. "So?" I say testily. 

She frowns, like she doesn't get it. Hell, she probably doesn't. She doesn't even really get that I'm Dark Jedi – read, evil? "My love . . ."

Still haven't reached my office.

I sigh and hold out my hands, wondering why I haven't sent her off somewhere in nowhereland and the kid to some professional nanny. Some sentimentality I have yet to get rid of, perhaps? She happily plops the kid in my arms. He grins at me, a gap where his front teeth should be. He's just a toddler.

"Now buzz off," I tell Lilah. She frowns. I add, "Please."

She frowns again, then grins and hops away, content that her son is getting quality time with his dad. 

Obi-Wan (what ever possessed her to give him that name, anyway? Even if it is growing on me, it still sounds silly) grins up at me yet again, his expression one of pure happiness. Well, what do you know. I readjust his position, so I'm holding him with one arm. 

"Da da?" he says. 

"Uh huh," I reply. 

He yanks my hair, which is shoulder length and easily grippable with his little hands. I'd forgotten about that. "Ouch. And that's Daddy's hair," I say, maneuvering his hands away from my hair. He grins at this new knowledge.

Some lackey runs up to me as I continue walking, mentally marking where I am in the building and how far away my office is. "Sir, sir –"

"What the hell is it?" I say, glaring, and he wilts back, eyes wide and scared. Yep, still have the touch.  Er, look. Even _with_ the kid, who you think would rather spoil the effect.

"You know that man you killed this mor –" he begins confidently, sure of what to say now.

"Yes, I know, my memories haven't been wiped since half an hour ago."

He wilts again. "Sir, the police have arrived."

"So?" I say, and start walking again. Obi-Wan yanks again, and that requires more hand maneuvering on my part. I wonder who told them about the dead guy. Damn, probably going to have to kill more people. It's so messy.

"Sir, they want to talk to –"

"Tell'em no."

"But –"

I glare. He nervously backs away. 

I sigh. Still haven't reached my office. 

Another lackey, a woman this time, approaches me with all the caution of a Gammorrean. Which is to say, none. Apparently this storming thing isn't working as well as I'd hoped. 

"What now?" I say before she gets the chance to speak. 

"These forms –" she begins, shuffling about a dozen datapads. 

"Fill them out and do whatever." If she messes up, well, I can always deny she did them with my knowledge later.

She gives me an irritable look. "Sir, they're for the man you killed this morning. All deaths have to be signed off by the head of the corporation, and that would be you."

"Kill whoever made that rule a rule."

"That would be you, sir," she says. "You approved it, and the person who came up with it originally is the man you killed this morning."

Well, she's got b – I mean, she's got guts. "I see. Fill out the forms, and have them sent to me for signing. Clear enough? Couldn't think of that on your own?" Another Dark Jedi glare.

She nods calmly. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." And walks away, trying to keep the datapads from slipping from her arms to the floor. Still haven't reached office. 

Oh, office! There it is, with crystal clear doors – that thankfully, and by my intelligent order, can be made opaque with a flick of a switch – and a fantastic view over Telos. Big black desk, weirdo art that's supposed to unnerve visitors, and most of all, _locks. Encrypted ones, at that._

With a relieved sigh, I step in, shut the doors, and make them opaque with an order (not a switch).

Then I realize I'm still holding the kid. I look down at Obi-Wan, and he looks up at me. Our eyes meet. I blink as I feel him stretching out in the Force, feeling for my presence. I let him, and then touch his mind, feeling only Light and curiosity. I can fix the first later on, I suppose. No need to start now. He's just a child.

He smiles.

I smile. 

And the comm beeps. I groan, and collapse in the chair at my desk, turning the screen to face me. Obi-Wan makes another grab for my hair. "On."

Qui-Gon's face appears. He looks noble, calm, all that crap. But his expression immediately breaks into confusion, and I realize I'm holding Obi-Wan within his view. 

"Xanatos –"

"Hey, I can't have a kid?" I say defensively, then realize he has no way of knowing the kid is mine. Great going, idiot. My brain is clearly on off today. 

Qui-Gon blinks, looking taken aback. "Well, I suppose –"

I lean forward, expression as menacing as I can manage with Obi-Wan surreptitiously pulling my hair. "I fully intend on killing you, the Jedi, and obliterate all your stinking ways and dancing in the ruins of the Jedi Temple," I say threateningly. "But not today. Dammit, I need my coffee."

Qui-Gon's mouth opens, and I say, "Off." And he disappears. Wish I could do that with everything.

"Off, you stupid world," I mutter. Then I giggle. No, I do not giggle. I mean I smirked, or something. "Offworld!"

Obi-Wan giggles at my gigg – laugh. I look down at him, and hold him tighter. I put a finger to my lips, to indicate silence, and he copies that too. That's my kid. 

He smiles.

I smile.

And this time (finally), nothing in the world interrupts us.

[fin]


End file.
